


Football Envy

by gmartinez12



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Football, Jealousy, M/M, Slightly Aged up, boy sex, but uses canon, it's not a football au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 08:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19016524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmartinez12/pseuds/gmartinez12
Summary: When Jon turned 14, he joined the junior football varsity of West-Reeve School. Unsurprisingly, around the same time, Damian started serving as the team manager. From day one, the team had to put up with Damian's condescension, especially towards poor Jon. They never understood why their newest recruit was the constant target of Damian's taunts. What they don't know, is that Jon and Damian are best friends. But for how much longer they'd remain friends was an uncertain question on either boy's mind.





	Football Envy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to a friend of mine XD Sorry for taking so long! I've been working on this since Feb omg. Also I know nothing about football lol. Special thanks to my sensei Scott for the editing.
> 
> Hey, you! Thanks for reading my fics!!! I really love talking to you guys and meeting new damijon/jondami fans, so if you want to know more about me and my work, and talk and stuff, I have a twitter over here! 
> 
> **https://twitter.com/SonsR18**
> 
> Come and say hi! I post fic updates there and I do comic edits too!
> 
> Also, if you discord, mine is gmartinez12#9930 :D

**Football Envy**

**by Gmartinez**

 

 

 

One by one, the boys filed into the locker room. They ranged in age from 14 to 16, and were all members of the West-Reeve High junior-varsity football team. Each was drenched in sweat and rainwater after a particularly grueling training session, and none of them were in very high spirits. All of them felt like their training wasn’t doing much to help them against their next opponent in next week’s inter-city match. Worse, they’d been wet and muddy for the better part of an afternoon.

It was little surprise then that none of them had the patience to get an earful out of the diminutive 17-year-old senior who served as their team manager.

“Your performance out there was _dismal_!” Damian Wayne scoffed. His crossed arms greeted the team as they each retrieved towels that had been meticulously prepared in front of each of their named lockers.

“C’mon, Damian, we were doing our best…” Jonathan Kent countered, although his heart wasn’t in it. He was the youngest and newest member of the team, and already a rising star brimming with confidence. Still, he was extremely deferential to Damian, something his teammates had never understood the reason for.

“Your _best_ might as well have been Peewee League-level compared to the Star City Speedsters,” Damian sneered. “You’ll be crushed.”

A hand squeezed Jon’s shoulder. Richard Gansey, the team captain, gave him a reassuring smile. Then Gansey turned to Damian, fixing a steely gaze on the smaller but older boy. He used his perfect posture and all six-plus feet of his height to cut an imposing figure that he’d hoped would intimidate the smugness out of Damian. Damian met it head-on with an obnoxious sneer, however.

“That’s enough, Damian,” Gansey warned. “The team is working hard, and while I appreciate your input, I’m the captain, and tactics are my purview.”

“Oh, your tactics are _passable_ ,” Damian replied lazily, letting the last word roll off his tongue to make the insult obvious. “But if the individual members don’t carry their own weight…” he added, casting an amused look at Jon.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Jon pouted, clearly stung.

“Maybe you shouldn’t place your faith so much on such a greenhorn, _Dick.”_   Damian placed emphasis on Gansey’s much-hated nickname, knowing that it would rattle the teen. Jon had always found it strange that Damian used it as an insult given that Damian himself literally had a brother who was also named Dick.

“Jon is an excellent running back,” Gansey argued, the politeness of his posh accent starting to fray.

Damian’s sneer grew wider—he loved riling the pristinely noble team captain. “It’s no secret you’re grooming him to be a quarterback, _Dick_ , but Jon can run as fast as a drunk sailor in the middle of a storm.”

“Lay off, Wayne!” growled Ronan, the team’s star line-backer and Gansey’s best friend. He was known for channeling his extremely short temper into good plays, and he had no time to spare for Damian’s snide remarks. “You don’t get to diss our boy when you don’t even have a single bone in you that can handle getting tackled!”

Damian brushed off the comment with a raised brow.

“I suppose _you_ do, since it’s the only explanation for how you can still walk after that fall at the 10-yard…”

“The ground was _wet_! It was _raining_! You sonofab—” Ronan was just about ready to launch himself at Damian if only Jon and Gansey hadn’t pulled him back by the arms. He was still quite upset about the massive spill that he’d taken on the field which ultimately led Gansey to call it quits for the day. The fall seemed to have epitomized the team’s demoralized mood.

“None of you need to coddle Jonathan,” Damian concluded dismissively. “If he underperforms, then say it like it is. And he is, by the way.”

Jon seemed to shrink at Damian’s words, and the older team members grew anxious that their youngest teammate was being laid low like that.

 _Just like parents striving to keep their babe from crying_ , Damian internally mused. In fact, the team seemed to be so entranced by Jon’s seeming vulnerability—his cuteness—that they were eager to overlook any shortcoming he might have. It irritated Damian greatly. Whether it was because the team wasn’t being rational or because the team actually found Jon cute, he couldn’t say for sure.

“He didn’t mean that,” Gansey cooed at Jon.

“Yes, I did,” Damian corrected.

“Shut up, Wayne!” Ronan and some of the other boys shouted.

Everyone turned to look as the door flew open and gave way to a portly man. He was dressed in the school’s physical education uniform but two sizes bigger than usual with a towel around his thick neck. Coach Fleck appraised the boys with a frown. His stature gave the impression of extreme physical prowess—or rather the remnants of it—in a man way past his prime. He fixed his gaze on the team, and then at Damian, and then at Gansey.

“For once, can I please enter the locker room without hearing you boys sniping at your team manager? Maybe one of these days I can go in here and you could be singing happily together instead? Maybe like a Disney song or something?”

“I don’t speak Disney,” Damian said coldly.

“He started it!” one of the boys pointed at Damian.

The coach gave Damian a disapproving look.

“I was merely pointing out their mistakes,” he said defensively.

“He was picking on Jon. Again,” said Noah, one of the quieter linemen in the team.

“Just what _is_ it about our newest member that makes your blood boil, son?” Coach Fleck asked with a pointed look at Damian.

Damian avoided meeting his coach’s eyes. “He…he has obvious flaws that the team chooses to ignore just because he’s the youngest.”

The coach glanced around at the team. Jon didn’t look weak in any discernible fashion. At fourteen, he was just as tall as half the team, his build was lean but not skinny, and his arms and legs already showed developing muscle. But he supposed that it was Jon’s face—his still-juvenile roundness and seemingly endless look of chaste innocence—that might be influencing the team to go easy on him. He considered Damian’s point for a few seconds and then rubbed his chin.

Finally, he announced, “Look, boys. I know that the Speedsters are intimidating, but we’re not helping ourselves by fighting each other. Mister Wayne here is concerned about the team just as all of us are, and Gansey, it’s your job to keep in mind any chances to improve. I hope you all remember that the only reason we can fully play our best is because of the new gear that the Wayne Foundation has donated to us. The funding that they gave for our marketing and branding activities is no small thing either.

“Mister Wayne, I’m sure that the team is…deeply grateful for your family’s generosity and your efforts as team manager. But you can rest easy knowing that Captain Gansey here can be trusted to keep the team in shape, especially young Jonathan.”

All the boys could sense that their coach was demanding a ceasefire, so they grumbled their agreements and headed off to change and shower. Damian stayed with the coach, scribbling notes onto his clipboard.

“I was under the impression that you and Jonathan grew up together,” the coach said to Damian. “Didn’t you boys enroll here at the same time?”

“What of it?” Damian asked indifferently.

“I guess I thought you were friends…?” the coach ventured.

Damian waited a few seconds before answering, “Yes, I see why you would think that.”

Coach Fleck waited, but Damian didn’t elaborate, leading the man to wonder how anyone could be friends with a boy who gave such impudent and frustrating non-answers.

Some time later, the team returned after their showers, already dressed to go home. After a few more minutes of pep talk with Coach Fleck, he dismissed them.

“I’ll need Kent to stay and help me tidy up,” Damian said imperiously over the boys’ low voices.

“Like _hell_ you do!” Ronan retorted. He placed himself between Jon and Damian. “Don’t listen to him, Jon. You don’t need to do anything that asshole says.”

Coach Fleck tensed, sensing the brewing conflict. He was spared the trouble of intervening when Jon slid past Ronan and walked over to Damian.

“It’s okay, really,” Jon reassured his teammates with an apologetic grin. “I’ll just help out and it’ll be done and over with, okay? I’ll be fine.”

None of the boys really had any stake in the matter—aside from just not liking Damian—so they all grumbled their assent and continued out the door. Coach Fleck gave the Damian and Jon his usual instructions of remembering to turn off the lights and lock the door, before he finally left them alone.

The locker room was silent as Damian and Jon stood there unmoving for a minute. Off in the distance, they could hear distant doors being slammed and voices of students celebrating the end of the school day. After a while, Jon headed off to the showers and began collecting the towels.

“So…is it just me, or were you a little meaner than usual today?” Jon asked, knowing that Damian was right behind him picking up discarded gear.

“I’m surprised you could tell there was a difference,” Damian said, a shrug in his tone. “It’s not like there’s a gauge for that.”

“Hey, _you_ try being the one picked on—you’ll feel it,” Jon replied. He wasn’t upset—in fact, he sounded almost impertinent. It was clear that Jon-with-the-team-facing-Damian and Jon-speaking-with-Damian-alone were two starkly different Jons.

“You’re still having trouble holding back, aren’t you?” Damian said over his shoulder. The banter between them was familiar. This was how they really talked with each other when they could just be themselves rather than needing to play their ‘roles’.

“It’s a lot harder than it looks—even more than I’d thought,” Jon replied thoughtfully. “It’s really hard to tell when I’m being too fast or if I’m already using my super-speed…and never mind my super-strength…”

“That much was obvious,” Damian chuckled. “If anyone else were as observant as I was they would’ve been able to tell that at some points, you’re faster than a fourteen-year-old has any right to be.”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Jon snapped. “It’s easier being you—whether you’re Robin or Damian Wayne, it doesn’t matter ‘cuz you’re still a sarcastic and annoying… _person_.”

Damian could tell that Jon was putting an effort into not swearing.

“Anyway,” Jon continued as he gathered candy bar wrappers, “You should try giving the team some slack. Getting them to hate you isn’t really helping anyone.”

Being partners in crime-busting, Damian and Jon had naturally formed a very tight bond. But as students of West-Reeve School, it became readily apparent that their closeness was tricky to explain. Why indeed would the scion of one of the richest corporations in the country be best friends with the simple son of a farmer turned journalist?

At best, Jon was accosted by the odd paparazzi and ambitious gossipmongers to reveal any secrets related to the relatively low-profile son of the very high-profile Bruce Wayne. At worst, there was at least one instance of the Wayne Corporation being accused of buying up journalists to cover up any assumed malfeasance—with Jon and Damian’s friendship cast as a piece of evidence. That minor scandal was thankfully buried underneath the following days’ grim headlines of Lex Luthor renouncing his heroic mantle and returning to his customary public denouncement of Superman.

Jon and Damian had decided that for the sake of themselves and their fathers, they needed to tone down their interactions in public. They couldn’t be seen being too friendly with each other in school anymore. Since then, they’d publicly distanced themselves from each other, which wasn’t hard given that they were three grades apart. By the time Jon had joined the football team, his former association with Damian had been all but forgotten by the student body.

That just meant that in private, though, Jon and Damian’s friendship just grew all the more intense. They couldn’t help but tease each other in any way they could, which had evolved into Damian annoying the heck out of the football team by picking on Jon, as an inside joke between the two boys.

“They’re coddling and overprotecting you and you know I’m right,” Damian concluded with a self-satisfied grin. “It’ll be harder on you if you suddenly slip up and over perform, raising their suspicions.”

“Sure, I guess.” Jon shrugged. “But what if I _like_ the attention? They’re nice to me.” It was Jon’s turn to give Damian a sly smile.

“ _Tt_.” Damian frowned and clicked his tongue. He often did that when annoyed, but right then, he looked downright offended.

“You’d trade our partnership for their… _niceness_?” Damian asked with barely concealed-bitterness.

Jon made a face of both amusement and surprise. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What do you mean?”

“You,” Jon pointed out. “Getting all jelly like that.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Damian grumbled.

Jon’s lips curled into a wicked grin. He very much enjoyed teasing Damian in revenge whenever he could.

“You’re jealous of Gansey and the guys… ‘cuz they have _me_.”

Damian’s facial expression seemed to be doing an intricate aerobics routine as it shifted from embarrassed, to angry, to infuriated, to guilty, and all the other emotions in between.

Finally, Damian blurted out, “I don’t…I’m not…hey, don’t be conceited, Jon.”

“Oh my _gods_ …” Jon’s shoulders heaved as he giggled, dropping the helmet he’d been carrying. “You _are_ jealous! No wonder you’re so grumpy around them all the time!”

“Tt,” Damian spat. “I’m not jealous.” He went over to Jon and slapped the boy’s shoulder from behind.

“Yes, you _are,_ ” Jon insisted in a teasing singsong voice.

“No, I’m _not_!” Damian pinned Jon’s arms to his back—Jon would barely feel it but Damian was trying to make a point.

“ _Hehe_ ,” Jon chuckled. His voice was getting slightly thicker and lower. “Man, just look at yourself after I’ve gotten you all worked up! You get under the team’s skin, but they don’t know how I get under yours…”

“Stop kidding yourself, Jon,” Damian said in a silky soft voice. He held Jon as tight as he could.

“Dami, you know I could just break free anytime I wanted, right?” Jon said, but there was something in his voice that hinted he wasn’t inclined to—that he actually _wanted_ Damian to hold him.

“But you won’t,” Damian’s voice got lower as well.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you like it when I hold you tight,” Damian whispered into Jon’s ear. He emphasized his point by tantalizingly licking the side of Jon’s neck.

Jon shivered with a slight whimper. “Oh…oh wow. That’s new…” he said breathily. His earlier playfulness was all but replaced with something more—something _obedient._

Damian craned his neck upwards and began nibbling on Jon’s right earlobe. His arms ceased pinning Jon’s and instead his hands wrapped the younger teen in a tight embrace from behind, his hands wantonly stroking Jon’s chest.

Jon was becoming keenly hyper-aware of everything around him. The lights seemed too bright. He could smell the sweat from both of them, and he could feel the warmth of their bodies so close together…

“Damian, oh gods,” Jon croaked. “You seriously want to…do it here…?

Damian ignored the question and began kissing the length of Jon’s neck. Then he paused and asked, “Why would I be jealous, Jon? The team doesn’t have you. How can they when you’re _mine_?”

He turned Jon around so that they were facing each other. For a few poignant seconds, their eyes locked, a thousand words passing through that meant anything and everything. Damian tensed with hesitation, something that he’d only recently begun to do whenever their roughhousing progressed into its logical conclusion. He was waiting, and Jon finally answered with the tiniest nod of his head.

At once, Damian kissed Jon fully on the lips. He made sure to grind against Jon, too, and make his friend aware of the fact that he was already hard in his pants. He swirled his tongue around Jon’s mouth only once, and when he felt Jon trying to reciprocate, Damian broke it off.

“Dami, what…?” Jon whimpered. He had a longing and confused expression, looking very much like a little puppy deprived of its favorite treat.

“I thought you were worried that this wasn’t the best place to do it?” Damian reminded Jon in a show of mock concern.

“Urgh…” Jon groaned, conceding the fact that he’d just been ‘busted’. With great reluctance, he straightened up and ran quickly to the door.

Damian took a certain pride in seeing that the front of Jon’s gym shorts were very tented. A moment later, he heard Jon locking the door shut.

Jon half-stomped and half-ran back to where Damian was. He faced Damian with a look that said: ‘Hey, I did my chores, I’m a good boy, and I’m ready for my reward!’ Their heights weren’t that much different—Jon leading Damian by two inches or so—but right then the contrast was starkly opposite. The way Damian smiled languidly and the way Jon pouted longingly made it seem like Damian towered over the younger boy in more ways than one.

“What?” Damian asked, pretending to give absolutely no fucks about Jon’s arousal.

“I locked the door!” Jon declared. “We can…we can do it more, now.” He sounded like a needy child to Damian more than ever.

“What would the team say if they saw you now,” Damian teased. “Innocent cute Jon with a look that all but _screams_ sex.”

“I hate you,” Jon muttered. He looked surly, but only in the way that children do when they don’t immediately get what they want.

“If you hate me so much maybe I should leave…” Damian said with a disinterested shrug. He made to walk past Jon but the younger teen grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“ _Wait_!”

“What do you _want_ from me, Jon?” Damian asked languidly.

Jon didn’t answer, but if his eyes could have screamed the windows of the whole school would’ve shattered apart right then. Finally, he released a resigned sigh. “You’re gonna make me _say_ it, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m gonna make you say it,” Damian nodded, sounding all too pleased with himself.

“ _Uuugh_ , you’re evil,” Jon groaned. “Fine, Damian, can I please play with your…your….”

“Go on,” Damian said encouragingly, grinning at Jon’s flushed cheeks.

“I’m gonna get you back for this,” Jon mumbled darkly under his breath. “Okay, Damian, can I please play with your dick?”

“No.”

“N—no?” Jon stammered in surprise, his eyes crestfallen.

“It’s not a _dick_ , Jonathan,” Damian clucked disapprovingly. “Boys have dicks. Men have _cocks_. We’re not kids anymore…so tell me what you _really_ want.”

“I…” Jon hesitated. At fourteen, he wasn’t the overly bright-eyed innocent that he’d been when he’d befriended Damian four years previous. He’d grown up—matured. Sex wasn’t the taboo that it used to be, especially since he and Damian had been quick to explore each other’s sexual frontiers not long after they’d became friends. It was why they’d gone from close to virtually inseparable outside of school.

Nevertheless, Jon had largely retained a wholesome image to the people around him in both deeds and words. He was polite, kind-hearted to a fault, and was known to spread cheer and exuberance to whomever he met. Among all his traits, the most emblematic of his disposition was his seeming refusal to say anything obscene. He’d curse, but with words that always fell short of actual profanity like ‘crap’, ‘darn’, and ‘hell’, and never in front of adults or young children.

Saying ‘cock’—which to him was the lustiest, lewdest, and most sexually-arousing way you could ever refer to a penis—was tantamount to sacrilege. It was practically a swear word.

And yet there it was, all for the taking. Damian had unbuckled his slacks and shed everything that he wore below the belt. His dick—no, his _cock_ —was rock-hard at a 45-degree angle pointing to the sky, already leaking one clear drop of pre-cum. All five inches pulsed in anticipation, its thick girth already making Jon’s mouth water. Perfectly-trimmed pubes crowned the spectacle, and Damian’s sack was neat and smooth.

Jon was staring at Damian’s cock, and he knew that there could be no other word for it. There was nothing like the mesmerizing red glow of a cock’s head, the proud posture that held the stiff shaft aloft in defiance of gravity and reason. There was nothing like the slight musk of cock that filled the last few inches between it and the tip of Jon’s nose, because he’d already reflexively knelt down, if only to get a better view of Damian’s eager member.

 A ‘dick’ is a child’s plaything; a ‘penis’ is a term in a biology textbook. But this… _this_ was a _cock_. A ‘cock’ was blood pumping to the tune of fevered heartbeats. A ‘cock’ was the tingling in your skin and the buzzing in your head that won’t be stilled. A ‘cock’ was the heat, and sweat, and sensation of the moment when you know you’ve stopped thinking of anything other than the feel of it—the _taste_ of it. A cock was unbridled _desire_.

 Jon wanted cock. He wanted _Damian’s_ cock. Saying ‘cock’ felt so much like a bad swear…but right then, it was a solemn vow that Jon was ever-so-eager to take.

Damian knew it then—the moment when he’d broken down Jonathan Kent without even saying a word. He blew a lewd sigh as his dick twitched—nothing made him hornier than breaking through Jon’s inhibitions. More than any other moment, it was at times like this that he knew…he was Jon’s kryptonite.

“I want your cock, Damian,” Jon declared.

He said it firmly not as a request for permission, but as a matter of fact statement. He was getting that cock, everything else be damned. Not that Damian would have refused, but it was one of the quirkier aspects of the boys’ relationship that the dominant force between them would shift from moment to moment.

“It was always yours, beloved,” Damian offered.

In the space of a heartbeat, Jon’s mouth swooped in and engulfed Damian’s impossibly hard cock.

“Ohhh...that’s good…” Damian moaned. He’d almost swooned.

His cock was enveloped by the moist heat of Jon’s mouth, a soft and alluring cradle for his most sensitive of parts. Jon’s tongue eagerly flicked the underside of the glans—clearly the younger boy was deriving as much pleasure in the texture and feel of it as much he was in the approving moans Damian made.

Damian put a hand on Jon’s head and stroked the boy’s hair. Somehow, the silky smooth strands of pure black felt like velvet to his palms, and added to the electricity coursing through his nerves from the blowjob.

“That’s good…you’re doing good, Jon. You’re amazing. I hope you like this too,” Damian crooned.

Jon paused. Getting praised by Damian was a rare treat in itself…but during _sex_? _That_ was new. Damian overtly expressing his concern for Jon during sex was just as bewildering as it was welcome. Back then they’d only pleasured each other simply for the sake of the pleasure. But now, this concern was endearing, even heartwarming. Jon very much liked this change.

To show his gratitude, he pulled back just a little short of letting Damian’s cock fall from his mouth, and then swallowed the entire shaft in a single breath, his lips brushing against Damian’s pubes. Damian exhaled sharply—likely from the pleasure radiating from his cock like a tidal wave— and Jon had no intention of letting up. He resumed bobbing his head to-and-fro, fiercely suckling on Damian as though he was intent on draining the teen’s very life force. His tongue nipped at Damian’s piss-slit just in case he was prematurely successful.

What Damian had realized early on with their sexual experimentation was that Jon was quite proficient at sucking dick. Jon was a rare breed of cocksucker—his mouth was just intuitively predisposed to pleasuring every inch of a penis, his tongue firm and dexterous enough to gently knead Damian’s engorged tool and lovingly massage the glans, and his jaw muscles were expertly attuned to just how much suction he’d needed to apply. Jon also derived a wild and raw pleasure from the act itself. He felt inexplicably satisfied with the sensation of a cock in his mouth, savoring the smoothness of the skin and tracing the shape of the rounded bulbous head.

There were times when Jon would spend upwards of an hour just nursing Damian’s dick, unknowingly edging Damian even though he hadn’t ever known what ‘edging’ was. Jon sucked Damian’s dick with a kind of wanton abandon, becoming oblivious to everything else other than the act of worshiping the delectable treat in his mouth. He sucked for his own pleasure more than anything else, and his own cock strained painfully out against his shorts, almost threatening to burst—all without even touching himself.

In the here and now, Damian could feel his loins burning and twisting into knots, and he knew that he was approaching the point of no return. Without realizing it, he’d apparently already been fucking Jon’s mouth while holding the boy’s soft, rounded cheeks without ever meaning to. Jon was just so good at blowjobs that Damian had momentarily spazzed out, his brain practically melting due to sensory overload. He wasn’t even aware of how loud Jon’s obscene slurping noises were.

Damian slowed his thrusting until he could bring himself to completely stop face-fucking his best friend.  Already, his dick was protesting the lack of friction. Jon looked up at him with innocently questioning eyes, mouth still full of cock, and Damian had to snort back a fierce desire to laugh. ‘Innocent with a cock in his mouth’ wasn’t a string of words that would make sense for anyone else that wasn’t Jon.

Gently, Damian pushed Jon down onto one of the unfolded exercise mats. Jon acquiesced while still wearing a look of wonder, but also while licking his lips. Damian briefly rummaged in his nearby bag until he produced a small cylinder of moisturizing lotion. They’d used the very same kind before whenever they’d slept together unexpectedly, in lieu of conventional lube. Jon dutifully removed the rest of his clothes, knowing what was to come.

“Ooohhh…” Jon hissed slowly as Damian thrust a lubed finger into his hole.

With the heat of their lust-wracked bodies, the cold lotion stung Jon’s pink entrance, and he could almost imagine it boiling into steam inside of him. He felt Damian ease one finger in and out, moving in a circle in an attempt to coax his sphincter to loosen. Jon was familiar with this kind of intrusion. They’ve done this before, but never in a location so risky as the school football locker rooms. There was a chance they’d get caught any second, and inexplicably, that fact gave Jon a thrill that sent a spark coursing through his nerves.

Jon let out a ragged moan as the second finger slipped in all the way to Damian’s knuckles. He felt the fingers wiggle inside him in a small tight circle, and he did his part to relax his hole. He groaned his approval at Damian, signaling his readiness. Damian’s reply came as a jolt of pleasure, the fingers having jammed themselves all the way up inside Jon and slightly bent to trigger his prostate.

Jon gasped. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d broken out in a sweat. He felt almost feverish as he watched Damian, enraptured at his childhood best friend finally stripping fully, eyes half-lidded in want and cock bobbing with every step.

Jon had never really told Damian how much he’d loved the older teen’s body. Damian was quite toned, lean, and firm from all his training and acrobatics as Robin. While Jon’s body was fit from all his sports, he still had his powers to lean on. Damian, on the other hand, had to train his body twice as hard to make up for the other half of their heroic duo. That had resulted in a perfectly sculpted teen body, not too muscly, but tight and lithe enough to accomplish nigh superhuman feats. When they were younger, Jon admired Damian’s physique. That innocent admiration grew into wanton desire. Damian was gods-be-damned sexy as heck, and Jon was always stunned speechless whenever he could see Damian in all his glory.

The tight lines of Damian’s chest, arms, and waist popped out at Jon like a neon sign that brazenly advertised the sex he was about to be ravaged with. He was mesmerized by Damian’s face, cool and purposeful, as the latter knelt down and prepared to commence what felt like a most solemn ritual. Jon felt his heart skip a beat as Damian leaned down and teased his cock with a few torturously slow licks.

“Damian, _please_!” Jon hissed urgently. “Just put it _in_ already!”

Damian shook his head in pity. “You’re far too eager, Jon. You should learn to enjoy and savor the moment.” He emphasized his point by leaning down again and taking in the swollen red head of Jon’s cock into his mouth, sipping at the bead of pre-cum on the tip.

Jon shivered—he’d stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. He’d forgotten that Damian, while no match for him in the dick-sucking department, was no slouch at it, either. But he knew what he wanted, and he was going to be denied no longer. He raised himself up onto his elbows, and stared at Damian with deathly seriousness. His eyes were almost aflame, his mouth was a thin line, and his jet-black hair was plastered to his forehead with the sweat of his arousal.

“Damian, I want you to _fuck_ me right now.”

There was no more pretense in Jon’s voice. No more pleading or begging. It was a command. More than anything, it was Jon’s willingness to utter the mother of all swear words that drove Damian to action. Jon had first learned to swear because of Damian, despite the fact that he tried his utmost to avoid it. Jon’s swearing was Damian’s mark on the boy—a constant verbal affirmation the Jon was irrevocably _his_.

Damian promptly raised Jon’s lanky legs up, and pressed his glans against Jon’s pink entrance. Damian rubbed his cock on it a couple of times until the very tip was aligned with the dilating sphincter. At that moment, Jon wrapped his legs around Damian’s back, and Damian was left no more room to tarry. Without any compunction to be careful, he buried his cock deep inside Jon with one swift thrust, all five thick inches bottoming out in one fluid motion.

Jon whimpered a soft and delicate note. To Damian, it was a beautiful sound, the beginning of sweet melody that blended together the sounds of lust, desire, love, and affection. He pulled out, and then slammed back into Jon, hard. The younger boy sighed—it was a breathy song of contentment. Damian thrust in again, and his pelvis slapped against Jon’s skin to make the drumbeats that dictated the rhythm of their passion. Both boys took short, harried breaths—the beat that guided their emotions. And so went the symphony of intimacy that accompanied Damian Wayne fucking the handsome boy that was his lover, Jonathan Samuel Kent.

_Eyes closed. Mouth open in ecstasy. Skin beaded with sweat. Jon loves it—I have to go deeper!_

Every other second was punctuated by skin smacking against skin as Jon submitted to Damian’s rapid pace. He revelled in every moment, relished every thrust, as the feral satisfaction of feeling his hole getting filled with cock again and again overpowered his senses.  He was extremely glad that he could rely on Damian to fuck him with gusto, never letting up the thrusts and perfecting the timing to a science.

_His cock is so hard, his muscles rigid and focused. Damian loves it—I have to squeeze tighter!_

Damian’s brow was lined with sweat. His breathing reverberated in his lungs like the harsh ring of a cathedral bell as his baser instincts ignored any ache or fatigue and kept him focused on the singular goal of satisfying Jon and stuffing the boy with his sex-hungry cock.

Meanwhile, Jon’s eyes rolled up back in his head. Mouth agape, he was desperate to breathe as his body was rocked by Damian’s frantic thrusts. His insides were ravaged with mind-numbing pleasure whenever Damian’s plump cock pressed against his prostate, sending a jolt of intense sensation every time.

_His body is writhing in pleasure—he loves it!_

_His hands are gripping me harder—he loves it!_

Damian struggled to keep his vision steady as he rhythmically plunged his cock into Jon. This boy who was his friend, his partner, and unspoken lover, didn’t just make his cock jump in lust, but also filled his chest with something indescribably warm. Jon’s eyes were closed, but he was smiling—smiling just as though he were petting a puppy. He smiled as though he’d just saved the day. He smiled the way he’d done when he’d flown for the very first time. Jon was smiling a pure smile—the smile of a boy who’d found what happiness meant in his life.

“Jon…”

“Damian…”

Damian put all of his strength into a monumental thrust and buried his cock into Jon. His pubes tickled Jon’s skin as he attempted to push in ever-deeper, even though his cock wouldn’t go any further. On impulse, his hand found Jon’s throbbing steel-hard dick and held onto it for dear life. Jon was practically shaking apart as Damian’s cock was firmly pressed up against the younger boy’s prostate. In an instant, Jon clenched inhumanly-tight and brought Damian over the edge.

_I love you._

_I love you._

Damian came first, with three explosive jets of his warm seed filling up Jon’s guts in less time that it took him to exhale. His frantic fucking ceased abruptly as a wave of insane pleasure washed over him, immediately followed by three less-powerful spurts, together yielding fifteen seconds of pure unadulterated bliss. He could feel a copious volume of his juices dribbling out of Jon’s hole as his hardness slowly began to subside.

While Damian had been preoccupied with his climax, he’d inadvertently squeezed Jon’s throbbing cock quite tightly for half a second. It was enough to make Jon burst. At once, furious spurts of warm cum shot out of his tumescent cock, leaving a trail of sticky white goo on his lean belly, chest, face, and sweat-matted hair. Jon felt Damian’s hand trying in vain to stem the mess by covering the tip, but that effort only resulted in a very cum-coated hand dripping with boy juice.

Jon couldn’t even count how many loads he’d shot out. He was in the throes of a spectacularly massive orgasm, and the numerous small-yet-unceasing spasms of his dick felt like small drops in the ocean of euphoria that he was drowning in.

At last, the height of their sex had begun to ebb, and both boys regained enough rational thought to disentangle themselves from each other. Jon unhooked his legs from Damian’s shoulders, while Damian fully extricated his cum-sodden dick from his best friend’s bottom.

Wordlessly, Damian reached over to his backpack and retrieved a pack of wet wipes to begin cleaning his crotch. Neither of them said anything as Damian next wiped Jon’s hole clean, making sure that it was free of any sticky boy-residue. He did the same for Jon’s now-flaccid dick, wiping it down in a decidedly non-sexual manner. He did the same for Jon’s chest, and everywhere else that was splattered with cum.

There it was again: Damian’s hesitation. But now, after sex, it felt much like a source of secret guilt.

Damian’s almost dispassionate demeanor unnerved Jon. In his mind, Damian’s silent meticulousness radiated a plethora of possible unsaid emotions, most of which Jon had assumed were negative. True, they’d been having a lot of sex over the past four years, but there had always been this pall of something uncertain and awkward in between the love-making—specifically, if anything they’d done constituted _any_ love at all.

This ‘are we or aren’t we’ question had always hung over them after sex, always unaddressed. Perhaps at first, it had been only because they couldn’t think of anything but the pleasure. Back then, they’d been too young to think of anything else. This time, however, the uncertainty was made more palpable by a lingering question at the back of Jon’s mind.

 _Had_ he said it out loud? He’d been so dazed by sex at the time that he couldn’t be sure if he had actually said it—he didn’t know if he actually said ’I love you’. Even worse was the fact that he couldn’t dissuade himself from the thought that he’d _felt_ Damian say the same. He was almost sure their minds had shared a single thought in that one moment of raw adolescent passion.

Damian finished cleaning up and, though still naked, he lay down beside Jon, staring at the ceiling. He seemed to be in a pensive mood, quite unlike how they’d usually return to bantering and teasing each other after sex.

“Did it feel good?” Damian finally asked.

“I…” Again, Jon was caught off-guard by the earnest concern in Damian’s voice. “I loved it…yeah. It felt really good.”

“Oh, that’s…good to hear…” Damian replied thoughtfully.

“Why are you so worried?” Jon pressed, concerned by this new and seemingly-foreign side to Damian. “We’ve done this so many times before.”

“It’s just…” Damian trailed off, taking care to pick his words. “I’d thought that you’d said something while you were…finishing.”

“Said something…like _what_?” Jon asked hesitantly. He was starting to think that he’d blurted it out after all. Then again…would it have been so bad for him to have said what he’d really felt right then, when he and Damian had been intimate for so long, and had been the closest friends for even longer?

Jon knew it then—he was ready to say it, to take the next step of whatever their relationship was and would be. He had a feeling that Damian was mulling over the same train of thought. Damian’s earlier jealousy with the football team now suddenly made so much sense. All he needed was for Damian to signal that he himself was ready to take it…

“Never mind what I said,” Damian mumbled. “I just thought that you didn’t want to do it here and I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like I didn’t give you a choice.”

 _Nooooo!_ Jon mentally screamed. Just like that, Damian had deflected and changed the subject, burying all of Jon’s hopes of bringing up their situation for some too-long-postponed discussion. It seemed quite obvious that Damian wasn’t ready for any such steps, or even any talk about it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon sighed with a hint of disappointment. But undeterred, he settled for a ‘consolation’. He carefully placed his hand on top of Damian’s and held it gently, hoping that Damian wouldn’t pull away.

At first, Damian didn’t react. But then Jon felt the older boy wiggle his fingers and slowly cup his palm, as though exploring the rightness of the gesture. Another second later, his fingers were laced between Jon’s, the warmth of their hands providing a starkly comforting contrast from the insistent heat of sex. Jon was privately glad it wasn’t Damian’s cum-ridden hand.

They stayed lying down on the exercise mat for a few long minutes, eyes trained on the ceiling and hands clasped together in absolute silence. Finally, Damian ended the moment by getting back to his feet.

“We need to head back,” he sighed, still not sparing Jon a glance as he reached out for his discarded clothing.

“Right,” Jon replied. He knew that he’d have a lot to do to get Damian to open up, but he was sure that he’d at least started something that day.

He got up after Damian and got dressed. Later that night, they’d be Robin and Superboy, prowling the streets for criminals and villains. Tomorrow, they’d once again be Damian and Jon, students of West-Reeve School and secret best friends.

But now, Jon knew—and that fact brought a spring to his step—that there was now a real chance they could be something more.


End file.
